


pilloried

by youcouldmakealife



Series: but always in tandem [13]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That’s pretty pathetic, actually, letting him have that kind of control over Robbie’s life years past the point where he was one of the central pillars of it. Pillar crumbles, you rebuild. Robbie did that, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact the rebuild was clearly shoddy workmanship when, like, the pillar comes back to town. </p>
<p>Robbie will admit it isn’t a perfect metaphor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	pilloried

Robbie can’t exactly say he’s not relieved to leave Boston, but he can’t say he’s relieved to go back either. It’s this weird thing where, like, he did his due diligence, he’s free of non-parent family until the February game and then summer, but that also means he’s right back into the whole shit with Georgie thing.

He loves his fucking job. He loves his team, he loves playing hockey on this kind of stage, to say nothing of the fact he’s getting paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to do it, will get bumped up to seven figures next season when his entry level contract expires. He lucked out with the roster he’s on. His captain’s great, most of the guys are good dudes, some of those dudes are going to stay his friends for the rest of his life. Robbie has already called dibs on best man _and_ godfather for Matty’s firstborn. Matty’s brother can just fucking deal, Robbie’s shared a room with him for three years, he earned it fair and square.

He reminds himself of that. He loves his job. Letting Georgie ruin that for him? That’s pretty pathetic, actually, letting him have that kind of control over Robbie’s life years past the point where he was one of the central pillars of it. Pillar crumbles, you rebuild. Robbie did that, but it’s impossible to ignore the fact the rebuild was clearly shoddy workmanship when, like, the pillar comes back to town. 

Robbie will admit it isn’t a perfect metaphor.

But the point is, Robbie’s got other pillars, here. He’s living the fucking dream he’s had since he was a kid, and maybe at seven he didn’t consider being resented by his half-brother or like, trying to make it work with his ex-boyfriend on his team, because obviously he didn’t. What seven year old thinks of that shit? When Robbie was seven Tony was his fucking hero, seemed so big and grown up but would play ball hockey with him unlike papa, pick him up and carry him around like a sack of potatoes, Robbie on his shoulder as he asked everyone if they knew where he’d gotten to while Robbie muffled his giggles in the back of Tony’s shirt. 

Hell, twenty year old Robbie couldn’t have seen it coming. Maybe the Tony thing, because there were cracks there already, but not Georgie. Twenty year old Robbie was so head over fucking heels in love he would have punched himself out for suggesting it. 

Robbie hates that kid. He hates that kid so fucking much sometimes.

They start a decent streak when they get back to work, pick up like they never left off. Robbie rings in the New Year at Wheels and Matty’s apartment, chill and low-key because they had a game that night, have another on the second. He plants one right on Matty at midnight and hides behind Whelan and his girlfriend when Matty goes after him. 

“I want you to stay with me all next year,” Robbie calls out over Lauren’s shoulder as he uses her as a human shield. “Don’t you want to stay with me, Matty?”

“It’s cowardly to hide behind a girl,” Matty says, and ends up getting past Lauren, dragging him onto the balcony and facewashing him with snow in retaliation.

“You’re okay, right, Rob?” Matty asks, once Robbie’s quit sputtering and wiped his face free.

“You just _shoved snow in my face_ ,” Robbie says.

“No, I mean,” Matty wiggles his hands around in some gesture that means nothing Robbie can figure out. “You’re okay?”

“Sure,” Robbie says. “Got my kiss at midnight with my true bro love and everything.”

Matty claps him upside the head and then hauls him inside when he starts shivering, and like. It’s a good night. 

*

There are a whole bunch of birthdays clustered right after New Years. Chaps first, his papa’s the day after, Georgie’s a week after that, not that Robbie’s going to be celebrating that one. They’re in Florida for Chaps’ birthday, which is awesome because warm weather, and also awesome because Volkie’s there, so they can have a mini-party or whatever Chaps can handle without short-circuiting.

Chaps argued against anything party-like on his birthday, which is lame. Robbie’s been texting Volkie to bitch about it, and Volkie’s in complete agreement with him on the lameness but is also giving in, which is fair. The way Chaps is acting, it seems like he’d like his birthday to be completely forgotten. Robbie’s not going to go the opposite way and do something he won’t like just because Chaps wants boring stuff. He’s not going to ignore it either, though. Robbie likes birthdays. His own for sure, but also everyone else’s. It’s kind of cool that there’s a day every year you get to celebrate continuing to exist. The bare fucking minimum of survival. Robbie isn’t even being sarcastic, here. He likes birthdays.

He figures Chaps deserves a cupcake at the very least. He seems like the kind of dude who’d like the boring kinds, nothing cool like the peanut butter banana with bacon that Robbie’s going to marry one day. Put a ring on it at the very least. Chocolate’s a pretty safe choice, he figures. They’re flying to Sunrise pretty early, so it’ll be a breakfast one. Breakfast cupcakes are the best. Robbie’s kind of jealous.

“What’s this?” David asks when Robbie deposits the box on his lap before they take off.

“Birthday,” Robbie reminds him. Maybe Chaps wanted his birthday forgotten so bad he forgot it himself.

“Oh,” David says. “Thank you.”

“Now you open it, Chaps,” Robbie points out when David just looks at it.

“What is that?” David asks, after opening it. Robbie’s getting kind of concerned about his cognitive abilities. Maybe guy needed a birthday coffee instead. Though, to be fair, the place Robbie goes has the biggest fucking cupcakes he’s ever seen, so maybe Chaps is trying to figure out whether Robbie got him a giant cupcake or a small cake.

Chaps tries to argue his way out of eating his delicious birthday present, argues time of day (but it’s his birthday), calories and sugar content (birthday), size (birthday!), and then finally relents and eats his cupcake with this frown of intense concentration that is actually adorable. Adorable. Robbie won’t tell him though, he thinks he’d freak.

Craney and Elliott pull them into a game of Asshole once Chaps has finished his cupcake breakfast. Robbie mops the floor with everyone, except for the one time he gives his presidential title to David because it’s depressing him that David’s bad enough that he keeps getting stuck being asshole on his birthday, and the one time Crane wins and decides he’s Prime Fucking Minister, because Robbie’s surrounded by fucking Canadians. 

Robbie’s got a whole thing on the monarchy ready (not even once, Canada), and David humors him the whole way to the hotel. Elliott keeps breaking in when Robbie maybe slides off topic, trying to defend Canadian beer, but look, Robbie’s tasted that Labatt piss, there are no winners in the race to the bottom. Canadians don’t know what they’re missing with their like, two crappy choices.

“There are 185 breweries in Ontario,” Elliott reads from his phone.

“What’s your point, Matty?” Robbie says.

“Want me to look up Quebec now, Robbie?” Elliott says.

“Nah, no worries,” Robbie says. “I know I’m right.”

“You always do,” Crane murmurs.

They play a decent game that night. Great one from David, considering he gets the game winning goal, which is like the best birthday present ever. Robbie will even admit it’s better than the cupcake, if only a little.

Chaps doesn’t look happy about it after, though, has this sour flat look on his face like they lost.

“Hey Chaps,” Robbie says. “You know we won 4-2, right?”

David answers affirmatively, and the sour look fades a bit, which is good. Talk about overachieving. If Robbie gets a game winning goal he’s not going to let anyone forget it. He doesn’t even let people forget normal goals, which, like. Are a lot less common than goals from Chaps, true, but still.

“Okay,” Robbie says. “Just checking. Also maybe you should talk to your adoring audience about your game winning goal.”

“Oh,” David says. “Right.”

“It’s his birthday,” Robbie tells the media. They should be nice to him on his birthday.

Robbie’s finished getting showered and changed before Chaps, since he didn’t have to deal with media, and he plays a few levels of Candy Crush while he waits, kicking Matty’s ankles until Matty threatens to dunk him headfirst into the toilet. Matty’s got just enough size to back that threat up, if not the like…disposition or anything, but Robbie figures it’s time to find the birthday boy anyway.

“You can come in late,” Kurmazov’s telling Chaps when Robbie wanders over. Birthday permission from dad. They’re adorable. Robbie is also not going to say that one out loud, and only a little bit because Kurmazov scares the shit out of him.

“I won’t,” David says, because of course he’s saying that.

“Damn straight we will, thanks Olezhka,” Robbie says, remembering what Volkie called him. The look on Kurmazov’s face has him immediately regretting it, and he backpedals fast, tells Chaps he’ll see him outside before Kurmazov can strangle him with his bare hands. He seems like the kind of guy who could do that. Even no handed, like Darth Vader. Shouldn’t risk it. 

Volkie’s sent him a text of the place they’re heading, one David’s already been, and they head out as soon as David catches up and Robbie’s life quits flashing in vivid technicolor before his eyes. Maybe ‘Olezhka’ means something terrible in Russian. Maybe Robbie insulted his honor. Volkie clearly can’t be trusted. Robbie’s going to have to keep that in mind for the future.

Volkie’s already there when they arrive, probably because he didn’t get interviews or non-verbal threats from terrifying Russians, gets up from the booth he’s nabbed to give David a super bro hug. Like, Georgie in college level bro hug. A super bro hug that drops the bro and is just a super hug. Robbie’s feeling a little neglected. 

“Volkie, I have to say I’m feeling neglected,” Robbie complains, because it’s good to be honest about your feelings. 

“I am so sorry, my love,” Volkie says, then blows him a kiss.

Maybe Volkie can’t be trusted, but he’s a pretty cool dude, and he seems to take the same amusement Robbie does in combination fake flirting and bugging Chaps, which is fun. At least it’s fun until Chaps starts looking at them like they’re about to make out over the table after a couple joking blown kisses, which is annoying as fuck. Like, this is the kind of shit you see in a locker room every day from the guys not too squeamish to live, so Robbie has no idea how he hasn’t fainted in an appalled homophobic heap by now. 

Robbie likes Chaps most of the time, but it’s hitting the point where something’s going to have to give, because Robbie’s not self-censoring himself for the sake of someone’s poor anti-gay sensibilities, no fucking way. If Robbie’s not doing that for his father, beyond like, not really talking about it with him directly, just through mamma, which Robbie’s pretty sure would be the same for all relationship shit, even if he had girlfriends, he’s sure as shit not doing it for a teammate. It’s not like Robbie defines himself by it or anything, but it’s kind of a key facet of the Roberto Lombardi experience, and if Chaps can’t fucking deal, Robbie doesn’t really want to spend time with him outside of team time.

Robbie doesn’t know if it counts as good or not that he gets distracted from the ugly twist in the gut pretty fast. Probably not, considering that distraction is Georgie walking through the door like the ghost of past pain personified. He walks straight to the table too, even puts a hand on David’s shoulder like he’s about to take him away to confront past mistakes or whatever, ‘David Chapman, you are doing the non-verbal version of no homo, it’s obnoxious as shit, witness the error of your ways’. Maybe The Ghost of Birthday Present then. Robbie would be amused by the thought, even kind of is, but the amusement sours fast, since Georgie’s there. Robbie sees more than enough of him at team mandated shit without him showing up during Robbie’s off hours.

“Birthday party?” Georgie asks. 

“What are you doing here,” Robbie says flatly. It’s not like they’re in some huge fucking city, or even like they’re far from the arena, but, like. Still a pretty big fucking coincidence, in Robbie’s mind. Objectively he knows it’s like…not even possible for Georgie to have followed them, but it feels like he’s trailing Robbie everywhere he goes, lately. Forget David’s ghost, he’s haunting Robbie every fucking chance he gets.

“Meeting a friend for drinks,” Georgie says. Or that, Robbie guesses, because of course he is. Man or woman in every port, probably. Man _and_ woman in every port, even more likely. “Is that not allowed?”

It’s not like Robbie can call him out for daring to be in the same bar as him. Like, he’d love to, but he’d look like a petty fucking asshole, so. “Whatever,” he mutters. “Go wait somewhere else, bye.” He snaps, and gives Georgie a sarcastic wave.

“Okay,” Georgie says, easy sounding in a way that gets Robbie’s hackles up even more, walks away just like that. Robbie lets out a breath, tries to unscrew himself, because he’s all worked up now and that’s no fucking good.

“Friend?” Volkie asks dryly.

“Best friend,” Robbie says. “Light of my fucking life, right there.” Regrets it as soon as he says it, because sarcasm doesn’t work so well when you’re saying something that used to be true.

*

Georgie’s kind of down after Kaitlin dumps him. Not like, down down, not tragic or anything, but kind of Georgie Lite. A couple days after the big ditch or whatever, Robbie’s supposed to grab dinner with Francis somewhere not a dining hall, but twenty minutes before he has to head out he’s sitting cross-legged on Georgie’s bed watching him do like, the saddest studying ever. Every few minutes he does this little sigh to himself which is half annoying and half endearing. The fact it isn’t 100% annoying says some bad things about Robbie, probably.

Robbie calls Francis. “Hey, about dinner,” he says.

“You’re not ditching me again, are you?” Francis asks.

“No, ‘course not,” Robbie says. But uh. Can Georgie tag along?” 

Georgie looks up from his text book, frowning. More confused frowning than sad frowning, Robbie thinks. An improvement, then.

“I guess?” Francis says. “This isn’t like, another double date where you glare at his girlfriend all night, right?” 

“I told you they broke up,” Robbie says. “And I wasn’t glaring, she just didn’t get any of my jokes.”

Georgie looks sad on cue. Maybe mentioning the girlfriend was a bad idea. Good work, dude.

“Uh huh,” Francis says, sounding kind of long suffering, and okay, Robbie has maybe mentioned it a few times. In his defense, Francis brought it up this time. 

“I don’t want to crash your date or anything,” Georgie says when Robbie gets off the phone. 

“Francis is cool with it, don’t worry about it,” Robbie says, and Georgie protests a bit more but ends up coming with. He looks a little less downtrodden, which is a good sign Robbie did the right thing.

Francis is already there when they arrive, gives Robbie the kind of deniable bro hug that passes as friendly, ends up giving Georgie basically the same one, which Robbie kind of has mixed feelings about. He’s being stupid, he knows, Francis and Georgie have met like, probably a dozen times now so that’s a totally appropriate greeting, but it’s just kind of weird seeing his boyfriend hug his…Georgie or whatever.

Conversation’s awkward for a couple minutes. Georgie doesn’t look like the sad sack he did, but Francis is clearly tiptoeing anyway, which Robbie appreciates. Awkwardness drops off when they start bickering about Man U's last game. Soccer’s not Georgie’s thing, but it’s his little brother’s, so the fact he starts looking intently at his phone five minutes in is fucking rude.

Robbie kicks his ankle. “We boring you, George?” he asks.

“It’s an email from my mom,” Georgie says distractedly. “She sends me like, a weekly update. Everything important that happened.”

“You get, like, a Dineen Family Update?” Robbie asks. Robbie met the whole Dineen fam when they were out there for a game against Providence, and honestly, now that he thinks about it, Georgie’s mom totally seems like the type who’d write cheerful updates and end every email with a, like, _xoxo love you :)_ or some shit. Like, she seemed really nice, but also all bouncy soccer mom. He guesses that’s not surprising, considering her kids.

“Yeah,” Georgie says. 

“That is frankly fucking adorable,” Robbie says. “How come you didn’t tell me she did that?”

“Because I knew you’d make fun of her?” Georgie says.

“I’m not making fun!” Robbie says. “Frankly fucking adorable, right Francis?”

“Sure,” Francis says.

“Quit calling him Frankly,” Georgie says.

Robbie snorts. “Lame, dude,” he says, kicking him under the table. Georgie kicks back. 

Food comes, and Francis is quiet, a little distracted. “Okay, babe?” Robbie asks in an undertone, reaches over to squeeze his knee under the table.

“Sure,” Francis says. “Did Cassidy tell you about the latest?”

The latest is the latest dude Cassidy’s kind of not really dating and totally for sure banging. She rivals Georgie there, except she doesn’t pretend to be anyone’s girlfriend, as far as Robbie knows, just keeps on doing her thing with a whole variety pack of bros.

The latest is apparently, well…look, Robbie sure as shit doesn’t share these kind of details with his bros. He’s pretty sure he wouldn’t even if he was straight, it’s not like Georgie comes back and tells Robbie every fucking detail, doesn’t seem to do that with anyone, even the straight dudes. Robbie has to admit, though, the way Cassidy tells it is usually funny, not just like a list of measurements and not actually scandalous sex acts like he hears sometimes in the locker room, but usually like…a series of unfortunate events. Thank fuck Robbie’s not in the dating pool. Thank fuck she introduced him to Francis so he didn’t have to go through a whole series of unfortunate events of his own, plus like…way less dudes, way more stigma. Super fun combo.

“Wait, you talking about Warren?” Georgie interjects after some non-dick physical description, and like. Yeah, Georgie introduced Robbie to Cassidy, but it’s kind of weird to think of him chilling with her too, a single link between him and Francis. 

“Oh my god, is that his name?” Francis asks. “That is literally the perfect name. Like dumb jock personified.”

“No offense,” Robbie shoots at Georgie, and Georgie snorts and kicks him again.

“George isn’t exactly a dumb jock name,” Georgie says.

“I meant more your face,” Robbie says. 

“I don’t know,” Francis says. “It’s a good face.”

Robbie frowns at him, betrayed.

“Thank you,” Georgie says, all sincere and smiley and like. Fuck. It _is_ a good face. Robbie kind of hates his good face sometimes.

Georgie insists on picking up the bill. “Since I was third wheel,” he says when Robbie tries to get it back, and Francis says “Hey, thanks”, so Robbie can’t really fight it any further. Makes a mental note to shove forty bucks into Georgie’s wallet later, though, because he knows money’s tight, and Robbie’s mamma gives him money for incidentals basically every time he goes over for dinner and to do laundry with the caveat that papa can’t know. Besides, can’t let a man pay for your food after you’re the one who invited him out. That’s a major dick move.

Robbie kind of just assumes Francis is coming back with him, because that’s what he usually does, but maybe he shouldn’t have, because after they get outside, start walking, Francis stops up and says, “I’m going to head back to mine,” after like ten seconds.

“Wait up,” Robbie says. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Francis says. “I’m just tired and I’ve got an essay I need to work on like all day tomorrow, so.”

“I can set my alarm early,” Robbie says. “And we don’t need to, like. You can just crash or whatever when we get back.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Francis says, brushes his gloved hand against Robbie’s wrist, which is about as much PDA as they do. “See you later?” 

“Yeah,” Robbie says, and catches up to where Georgie’s waiting half a block away.

“Not coming?” Georgie asks.

“Nah,” Robbie says. “Got an essay to work on.”

“Too bad,” Georgie says, throwing an arm around Robbie’s shoulders and squeezing. “Want to watch the Bruins? Game’s on in twenty.”

“North Stars, right?” Robbie says. “Fuck yeah. Over-under on someone getting tossed?”

“Not taking that bet, babe,” Georgie says. “I’m not an idiot.”

Robbie opens his mouth. Closes it. “Way too easy,” he decides, and Georgie laughs and then knocks him into the next snow drift they pass.


End file.
